


Would You Rather...

by Waffles_Are_Exceptional



Category: Would You Rather (2012)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Character Death, Don't Know Who I Mean?, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Sadism, Murder, Past Torture, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, The Depressed Angry Baby Boy Deserves Better, Torture, past suicide attempt(s), travis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29985156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waffles_Are_Exceptional/pseuds/Waffles_Are_Exceptional
Summary: What if things went differently during Shepard Lambrick's deadly game of "Would You Rather"?Finding her brother dead, Iris realizes Travis might still be alive. Is she willing to go back to where that horrifying dinner party took place? Will she save him in time before he dies of his injuries?
Relationships: Travis (Would You Rather)/Other(s)





	1. I wonder why you're being singled out?

**Author's Note:**

> I have it in the tags too, but just a reminder this is dark. There isn't very much description of blood and injuries, but your mind doesn't need that to fill in the blanks. Also, if anyone notices a mistake in my writing, please let me know!

The doors glided open, and in stepped Mr. Lambrick and Julian, the tapping of their shoes against the wood heavy and menacing. Many of the guests shifted in their seats, discomfort making itself felt once more in their minds, scurrying as their heads turned, or they peered at the table.

Mr. Lambrick clapped his palms together, "And so we begin again..." He said. "Oh!" He exclaimed, recalling something, rocking on the balls of his feet, "Does anyone need to use the restroom or anything?" Mr. Lambrick asked, looking around. His voice was sweet, the innocence of the tone defiled by the man's resolves.

A wheezing chuckle overcame Mr. Lambrick, as he bent forward with the flow of the laughter.

Travis (who usually kept his head low) and Peter looked around, seeing if the joke confused anyone else.

"I'm just joking." Mr. Lambrick said, taking a breath and clasping his hands together again, "I know you're all probably just as eager to keep playing as we are." He said, his eyes drifting to Travis.

Travis looked up, timid, at the man, his eyes dropping back to the table as he realized Mr. Lambrick was staring at him.

"Now, in this round, you will each get thirty seconds, in order to make your decision, alright?" Mr. Lambrick said, then smacking his lips, raising his voice, "So let's begin with... Amy." 

Amy looked at Lambrick, surprised. She thought there would be some sort of order to whom went first, like maybe Cal.

She breathed in, readying herself, ignoring everyone's glances.

"Amy! Would you rather... Stab Linda in the thigh with an ice pick," The butler placed an ice pick on her right side as Lambrick spoke.

Amy looked at Lambrick like he was infected (to her defense, he was) before her eyes darkened.

"Or..." Lambrick went on, "Strike Travis three times," Lucas shared eye contact with Travis, who flicked his tongue out, nervous, straightening up. "With this African whipping staff," Lambrick went on, "a Sjambok?"

Travis's eyes widened as he looked at the Sjambok. He knew that whip. He'd felt it before. He looked away from it. _Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe now he knows what to expect._

Amy's eyes swayed between the two items on either side of her, taking slow breaths, trying to be smart about this.

"Oh, my god! They're gonna kill us!" Linda yelled, forlorn. Yeah, she wasn't helping Amy decide.

"Look, Amy, three whacks from that, I'll be ok," Travis said, calm, acting as if it was no big deal.

"It depends where I hit you," Amy said, looking him dead in the eye.

The muscles in Travis's jaw danced as he clenched and un-clenched it. "It's only three." He said.

"It's gonna hurt though, man," Lucas said, his voice soft.

Travis huffed out a breath of air, "I know, just get it over with." Travis said, in a voice only a man who had been through pain and was tired of it could. Gliding his hands off the table, he stood, moving his chair out of his way and taking his jacket off, glaring at their captors as he did so.

"Sjambok it is!" Lambrick said with fake excitement, as Amy stood slowly, grabbing the whip.

Amy looked at Travis, seeing him taking his jacket off.

Amy walked towards him, looking at him with grim orbs. He evaded her gaze until he glimpsed at her.

She noticed fear brimming in his eyes. In hers', the macho front he'd been wearing, shattered. At that moment, she knew him. He had demons, and he'd been hurt like her. He feared every person he saw, thinking they'd harm him further. Well, now that was coming true.

Amy kept herself composed. She leaned in close to him, Travis's eyes becoming sharp, but letting it happen, "I'm not doing this. They are, so don't hate me." She whispered, her words sharp.

Amy pulled back, the two of them sharing a moment of eye contact, Travis's eyes a strange mixture of doubt, despair, and assurance, leaving a gloomy impression under his eyes. "I don't." He said plainly, wordlessly turning his chair around, sitting backward in it, intertwining his fingers on the table, preparing himself.

"Now Amy," Lambrick said, standing next to her, "There's no just _tapping_ him, you need to put your back into-"

"I know." Amy said, looking at the man, murder in her eyes.

"You know?" Lambrick asked, interest high in his voice.

Amy gazed at him with a stagnant stare.

Lambrick shrugged, "Right, none of my business." He turned to Travis, "And, uh, Travis?" He leaned in, whispering, "This is going to hurt, so make yourself comfortable." Lambrick wheezed in laughter while taking his seat at the head of the table, Peter scrunching his nose in revulsion, and Travis just glowering at him.

Amy stood there, thinking. "I'm going to touch you, got it?" She said. Travis didn't have time to respond before Amy caressed her hand over his upper back, Travis jumping somewhat. "Push your shoulders together." She instructed while feeling along with the flow of his muscles.

Travis did so, though hesitantly, not knowing what she was up to. Did he really _have_ to know? She was a nurse, after all.

Amy buried her thumb deeper into his back. Travis sat there wordlessly, slackening his shoulder-blades as Amy moved on to his lower back muscles. She suddenly seized his ass, and he flinched, glaring back at her, giving her a stinkeye.

Lambrick laughed, who was paid no mind, Amy raising her hands apologetically, though she didn't _look_ sorry.

Everyone watched her, in either confusion, interest, or being just plain dismayed (in Linda's case), not realizing what she was doing.

Amy moved away when she finished, Travis not making a din. His mind was focused on somewhere else, preparing for the misery ahead.

"Wherever I want?" Amy asked, not taking her eyes off of Travis's back. 

Lambrick's curious gaze burst as he was caught off-guard. "Never heard anyone ask that before." He said, and shrugged, "I don't see why not, as long as it's below the neck."

Amy sighed, talking to Travis, "Can't do your back. You don't have ample muscle or fat to protect your arteries. If I hit your kidneys they could fail, and I can't risk damagin' your ribcage and major arteries." Amy said evenly, her voice not wavering once.

Everyone listened curiously.

Travis hesitated to answer for a moment. "Do what you have to." He said, his tone short, his interlaced fingers pulling tighter. The veteran began breathing deeper, readying himself.

Amy nodded, though he couldn't see it, "Tie your jacket around your waist." She said.

Travis took his jacket off the table and did so, Amy making sure it was straightened out and covering his rear. "Ready?" Amy asked, needing confirmation he was ready before proceeding.

"Go ahead, Amy," Travis said, voice soft and reassuring, though his even breaths were stirring with each passing moment. Amy waited until it slowed, indicating he was more mentally ready, Travis's head dropping.

She looked that little cunt Julian dead in the eye; the man looking at her in return. The whip snapped on Travis's backside, splitting his skin. The vet lurched forward, a forceful exhale blocked in his nose, his head shooting upwards. His hands shuffled involuntarily against the smooth table, and he groaned in pain, the sound much more repressed than the pain itself. His head fell back down, his breath falling with it, his hands having trouble finding their former place.

Amy still hadn't broken eye contact with Julian, who was looking somewhat frightened. In her mind, Amy had completely replaced Travis with Julian. Travis was safe in his seat, and Julian was feeling the pain of her wrath. She couldn't replace Travis completely with Julian or risk striking this ignorant man harder than she intends.

One down. She readjusted her grip on the handle. She struck again, "WHAP!" this one was higher, tilting much more and joining with one side of the last. Everyone flinched from the sound, Travis arching his back, jolting in his seat, "Fffuck..." He whimpered. It felt like pure fire was splintering his skin. 

Two down. Julian was sinking in his chair, Amy's eyes an acid burning a hole through that cowardly skull. For her, Julian was hurting Travis. That slime had requested to have this happen, she knew it.

Amy struck again, a quick, high-pitched sound forcing its way from him as he jolted again, the muscles in his neck and chest not giving him an option, as it forced his head back. She'd missed slightly, striking his lower back.

"Three..." Amy said breathlessly, dropping the whip on the floor.

"All right!" Lambrick said with a chuckle.

Amy's eyes locked with Julian's before she drew her attention back to Travis. The vet let go of a little sound, his body tensing as he held his breath, trying to lessen the pain.

Lambrick continued talking, "That looked like it hurt, Travis." The man said, tilting his head to the side, inspecting the man.

Travis let go of his breath, "Well, it did." He said gruffly, rearranging his bite. He realized he'd bitten his tongue a bit. Not enough to bleed, but just enough to hurt.

"Are you okay?" Iris whispered. Concern was etched in her face, like Lucas's, and almost everybody else (who wasn't an evil psychopath).

"I've been through worse," Travis said, sniffing. His eyes moved from Iris to Julian defiantly, who didn't seem pleased by the statement.

Amy had already sat back in her seat, the guilt finally washing over her as she looked at Travis, who quivered, his forehead sweaty, strands of hair sticking to it.

"Lucas," Lambrick called, "You're next." He said. Lucas became instantly uneasy. Well, instantly more uneasy than he already was.

"Would you rather stab Iris in the thigh..." they placed the icepick on Lucas's right, Travis pressing the back of his hand to his brow as slight nausea came over him from the pain, "Or..." Lambrick continued, speaking slowly to make things dramatic, "Give Travis three more strikes?"

Mostly everyone's heads shot towards Lambrick in surprise. "Oh, come on!" Lucas yelled, eyes darting back and forth quickly between Lambrick and Travis.

Travis huffed, hands rising and falling exasperatedly against the table. Travis now knew they definitely planned this, looking at Julian, who was smiling like a smug little kid.

Lucas looked back at Travis before his focus shot down to the space between the two items in front of him, Travis breathing uneasily beside him. The clock ticked, Lucas becoming more perturbed by the minute.

Julian cocked his head, watching, grinding his teeth silently as he hoped he picked Trevor, like the little shit he was.

Lucas turned to Travis, "Look..." Travis nodded, pressing his lips together like he knew Lucas would pick him. "That's a really dangerous place to stab somebody, there's a major artery there," Lucas said to the younger man. Trevor looked at him silently, both men breathing heavily.

"You know what I'm saying?" Lucas asked.

Travis nodded, "I do." He said, "Let's just get it over with." He said, looking straight ahead, breathing out tiredly. He looked entirely done with this shit.

"Sjambok again." The butler said as Lucas moved into position. Lucas looked confused on where to strike... 

"Forearms," Amy said.

Most everyone looked at her, except for Trevor, who gazed at the table in front of him, bracing his chair.

Lucas's eyes darted around, and he nodded, "Right." He said. "Uh... Are you right-handed or left?" Lucas asked.

"Left," Travis answered. Lucas nodded silently, taking Travis's right hand, who let him lead it to be stretched out along the table.

Travis turned his head away, his other hand tightening on the chair as he lowered his head.

He straightened up as he felt Lucas press the whip against his forearm, aiming it. It came down hard and sudden, Travis choking in sudden pain, and he cried out. He didn't look at his arm. His left hand held tighter to the chair, his head falling back down, and he whined. With each agonized sound, his body voiced its desperate pleas for the pain to end. He wouldn't be so lucky.

The second strike came down, his voice cracking with his cry. He didn't look at his arm.

Once more Travis was forced to cry. One last time and it was over.

Amy had been watching Julian the whole time. The man looked overjoyed. Amy couldn't wait to slash his throat.

Travis groaned, clinging tighter to the chair. He moved his right arm, wincing, and clenching his eyes shut, breathing out through his nostrils shakily. He brought it to clutch at the chair with his other arm. He didn't look at it, unable to suppress a little sad sonance.

"I'm sorry, man." Lucas leaned over to say while taking his seat.

Travis moved his head, his neck uncomfortable from sweating, reaching up with a shaky hand and loosening his tie, breathing evenly as he did so, trying to calm himself, sniffing and wiping his nose. His hair was becoming matted, and his skin shiny with sweat, a slight tremor making its home in his body.

Travis interlaced his fingers, even though it hurt to move his right hand, making a point of it, looking straight ahead.

"Travis," Lambrick said, picking through a small bowl in front of him full of nuts, "You're probably relieved to find out that it's your turn?" He said, looking up at Travis with a tight-lipped grin before his face fell back to normal as he went back to picking through the nuts.

Travis nodded, huffing out thinly through his mouth, "Something like that," He said, his eyes looking to Lambrick weakly. The vet looked like an absolute mess, trembling.

"Alright, then. Let's get it over with." Lambrick said, sounding disappointed. Travis couldn't pinpoint why. "Travis!" Lambert exclaimed, going back to picking nuts, "Travis..." Lambert popped a nut in his mouth, straightening as he chewed, Travis looking at the icepick as it was placed to his right, the bags under his eyes seeming to darken, "Would you rather... Stab Lucas, the man who just whipped you, or... A drumroll please..." Lambrick began drumming his fingers against the table, "Take six more lashes, this time administered by Bevans?" Lambrick said excitedly, finishing his drumroll.

Travis murmured, gasping softly with a labored breath, "Ser- Seriously, man? I can't, I can't do this anymore." He said, voice desperate, his head shaking weakly as he stared down at the table.

"I wonder why you're being singled out?" Julian laughed, wickedness in his gaze.

Amy swore she would have said the same thing if it wasn't for the fact she'd grown a conscience recently.

Travis looked up at him, unbelief framing his features, "What the fuck is the matter with you people?!" He looked from face to face, feeling entirely alone, "What did I ever do to you?? Huh?" He looked at Lambrick, " **What?!!** "

Lambrick stared right back at him, pitiless. 

When Travis realized he would find no comfort there, his gaze fell back to the table, somewhere he was getting well acquainted with. He swallowed, sucking in a breath, eyes blinking repeatedly. He nodded, "That's, That's what I thought."

Lambrick smacked his lips, "Travis, we need a decision." He said simply, continuing chewing.

"Yeah. _Yeah_ , the fucking whip." Travis said, his voice cracking, flinging his arm in the air, his hand tapping back down on the table, holding the whip towards the butler. "I'm not stabbing anybody." He said. The strength he still had in his voice illuminated his doggedness, as he looked at Lucas.

He grabbed at his tie, using both arms to continue making his defiant point, pulling it out of his collar, folding it, and holding on tightly to it, putting it in his mouth. Moving his arms to do so only grieved his back further, the slices pulling and tightening, or opening their mouths. He ignored it, yet another show of his courage. _He could take it._

"We have to stop this, we have to," Iris whispered to Lucas.

"Yeah. Wait, wait!" Lucas raised his hands in the air, as one of Lambrick's men pointed a gun at his head, "Stop, stop!" He leaned in close to Travis, grabbing the icepick, "Travis, just stab me in the thigh, ok?" He said, holding it out to Travis.

Travis took his tie out of his mouth, "I'm not stabbing anybody." He said, looking at Lucas defiantly like he was an idiot.

"Travis, come on!" Lucas hissed.

"Lucas," Lucas looked at Lambrick, "This is admirable, but it's against the rules." He said.

"But I'm OK with it!!" Lucas yelled.

Julian spoke up, "He can't go back! His first choice is final-"

"Just hold on a second!" Lucas yelled towards Julian, "I said I'm OK with it!!"

"It's okay," Travis whispered.

"Come on." Lucas pressed.

"Lucas!" Lambrick called.

"It's okay..." Travis repeated, shaking his head.

"This is all very admirable. His decision." Lambrick said.

Travis looked past Lucas, at Julian, expression filled with anger and determination, as Julian sneered back at him.

Travis moved his hand away from Lucas's shoulder (when did he put it there?), looking at the tie in his hand, "It's okay." He said, situating his tie and gripping it tightly, putting it back in his mouth. He stared defiantly at Lambrick.

"It's just like life, isn't it?" Lambrick said, staring levelly at the wounded vet, "There are no do-overs."

Travis continued staring at the man with bubbling rage, body shaking. He looked back at the butler, who readied the whip. He looked straight ahead, closing his eyes. Just then, he remembered something Amy told him... Keep it on. His jacket, an extra layer of protection, was on the ground at his feet.

After keeping the whips away from Travis's back for so long, Amy had finally failed. With each crack of the whip, Travis came crumbling down, each cry of anguish muffled only slightly by his tie, the man screaming louder with each strike. With the last one, there was a crack, and he collapsed, his shaking hands gripping so tightly to his tie his knuckles were white. 

"Travis, Travis, Travis, Travis, Travis..." Julian tsked.

"Hey, hey, hey," Lucas said, leaning in towards Travis's face, touching his hand gently. Travis didn't respond, only making snorting, choking sounds, gasping. Damn, this hurt.

Lucas turned to Iris and Amy, "He doesn't look good. He needs medical attention." He said earnestly.

Travis pulled the rag out of his mouth shakily, his entire body trembling. He tried pulling himself to sit more upright, but his head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and it's like there were missing pieces of his back. Puppet strings cut by scissors.

Lucas looked at Amy, "Amy, you're a nurse, right? Can you check him?" He asked.

Amy rolled her eyes and looked to Lambrick for permission, Lambrick shrugged, "I don't see why not."

Lambrick stared at her and silently gestured to Travis with his hand.

Amy stood, walking steadily around the table to Travis, trying not to seem too anxious.

"Travis, can you sit straight for me?" She asked.

Travis tried lifting his chest off of his chair but failed, only barely moving his left side before falling back, enveloped by bitter acid. He hissed, panting groggily, his hands twitching in jittery movements.

"Okay. Don't try moving anymore." She said, pulling him to sit upright by his shoulders. "Lucas," She said.

Lucas knew what she wanted, holding onto Travis's right shoulder, keeping him up.

Amy reached around the vet's body to his front, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off carefully while sliding his right arm out of his sleeve. Travis made little noises of discomfort, his head swaying every once in a while, but besides that, he didn't react.

They leaned him back against the chair, and Amy looked at his back. Anyone else who got a peek at it, looked away in dismay, Lucas covering his mouth with the back of his hand, looking sick.

Underneath the tracks of blood, Amy could see a large bruise blossoming on his right side over his ribs. The ribs didn't look right... She'd start there. She tenderly touched the spot, feeling the area, pushing down ever so gently. Travis's shriek was muffled by his arm as he recoiled, his hands seizing desperately at a smooth table, needing leverage, but getting none. He willed himself to still again, his breath quivering, restricted.

Amy grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to be still. She kept feeling his back, Travis's head thudding on the table in absolute exhaustion and staying there, the vet trembling, not breathing.

Amy leaned over to Lucas, "He has three fractured ribs. They haven't punctured his lunge, but they'll make it hard to breathe." She said. He nodded soberly.

Amy took Travis's undershirt and tied it around Travis's ribs, binding them as best she could, Travis too drained to do anything but sit there limply like a bag of meat. Amy picked the jacket up from the floor and shoved it into Lucas's hands, moving back to her seat.

"I wonder what those other scars are from?" Lambrick wondered aloud, tracing a scar on Travis's shoulder with his eyes. It was jagged and torn, secluded only to his shoulder. Some old scars on his upper back and collarbone were much thinner and longer. "Shrapnel? Torture?" Lambrick turned the vet's arm to expose his wrist, revealing faded scars, some larger than others, most old, but some relatively new, still scabbing over. "A perpetual depression? I do query..." Lambrick said.

Travis was too weak to pull his arm away. He might've even been passed out.

Peter leaned forward to get a better look at Travis's back, his face hardening as he looked at Lucas. At that moment many of them knew the sjambok had been a purposeful pick, something from Travis's past. _How did Lambrick know so much about them_.

Lucas slowly and gently draped the jacket over Travis's shoulders, who didn't so much as flinch. Travis rested his sweaty forehead on his left forearm. He felt nauseous, and so, so tired. He just wanted a nap...


	2. Duck... Duck... Goose

"Peter..." Travis faded out and back into consciousness like a wave, "On, the other hand, Travis is..." "Amy. Would you rather..." "Stab any player of your choosing!" Travis never moved. Sometimes he could barely feel himself breathing. 

"In case any of 'yall haven't figured this out yet, this game isn't about helpin' each other," Amy said, looking around. "It's about eliminating the other players." She said, grabbing the icepick and moving to get out of her chair.

The butler went for his gun, "Bevans." Lambrick said, calling him off.

Bevans backed up.

Amy stood, gesturing to Linda, "This one's probably going to bleed to death." She said, sauntering around the butler, heading towards the other side of the table.

"Duck." She walked past Cal, "Duck." She walked past Iris. "Duck." Lucas was sitting facing out, protectively guarding Travis, his jaw clenched, ready for a fight.

She stopped for a moment, staring at the two men. Lucas's intense glare, and Travis, his back a bloody mess, barely moving, his trembling seeming to have gone, the only evidence he was alive being his head swaying every once in a-awhile. 

He'd been still for a while. She just had to make sure he was alive.

"Duck." She began heading back around the table the way she came, passing Iris, "Duck." She passed Cal, "Goose!" She tried stabbing Julian in the neck, but he raised his arm to defend himself, getting stabbed through the hand, the man falling out of his chair, squawking like a bird, and writhing on the ground.

All Lambrick's men pointed their guns at her, Lambrick waving them away, "WHOA, WHOA!" He called.

His men stood down, and everything was silent, except for the sound of Julian's screeching, "FUCKING PIG!! SHE STABBED ME!!" He shrieked. No one moved to help him.

She'd missed. Nevertheless, that felt good.

Lambrick stared at her with curiosity instead of hatred. A true Sociopath. She stared back.

"Take him out," Lambrick ordered.

His men removed the icepick from his hand, Julien screaming, throwing it to the ground as they dragged him out.

"Now, why would you stab Julian, of all people? Why not Bevans, who possesses a gun?" Lambrick asked, calmly.

Amy's heart and breath quickened. Lambrick was so close to Travis. Way too close. "What'd you expect me to do? Not stab that little shit?!" She hissed. Her eyes flicked to Travis for only a moment, but that's all she needed to do. She'd blown her cover.

Lambrick's eyes drifted down to Travis, and a lightbulb went off in his head. "Oh! Oh! You did it because of him! What happened to "eliminating" the other players?" He asked.

Amy exhaled harshly through her nostrils, slowing her quickened breath, "None of your business." She said, venom on her lips.

"Now, now..." Lambrick glanced at one of his men. That man instantly put a hand on the side of Travis's head, pinning it against the table, the vet facing towards everyone else.

Travis's eyes opened in a brief flutter, and he groaned, his fingers twitching, but not moving besides that, the man pressing harder against his skull.

"No need to get cocky at a time like this," Lambrick said to Amy, as the goon got a gun out, pressing it against Travis's temple.

Amy watched, eyes widening, most of the other guests doing the same, except for Linda, who seemed to be out cold.

"Now, Amy? Why would you care so much about this man you just met? Want to give me any pointers?" Lambrick asked.

Amy was completely silent, rocking from foot to foot.

"Oh, Oh. But he reminds you of someone..." Lambrick tapped his chin, looking at the ceiling as if in thought.

Travis's brow furrowed as he looked at her, along with most everyone else, "Your brother was a soldier, wasn't he? Died in Iraq?" Lambrick looked down at Trevor, "And this fella reminds you of him, doesn't he?" Lambrick said.

Amy swallowed, sharing eye contact with Travis, who stared at her, seeming to barely be awake, his brows twitching and knitting together.

She nodded silently, and she looked at Lambrick. She didn't know how he got that information, but that didn't matter. "I'll do what you want. I'll play the game right." Amy said, eyes staying glued to the gun as she recomposed herself.

"Amy, Amy. But you've already broken the rules!" Lambrick reminded.

Travis tried moving again, only able to get his hands to slide to the edges of the table, clamping on. His eyes closed as he breathed shakily through his nostrils.

"Is there another route we can take?" Amy asked quickly, level-toned.

Lambrick cocked a brow, stroking his chin, "Sure!" He said. "Amy. It's still your turn. I'm going to change your options a little... Now, either you pick having Travis's brains blown out, or you take the icepick you used to stab my son, and you stab yourself in the neck with it." Lambrick said, "You have thirty seconds."

Amy looked at Travis, her face crestfallen. Travis looked back at her, eyes drooping.

Barely seven seconds went by before she bent down, picking the icepick off the ground, holding it up to her neck, and closing her eyes.

"Amy." Was faintly uttered in a small, feeble voice.

Amy looked at Travis.

"I've had worse. I can take it." He said, his voice low and groggy like he hadn't slept, his eyes laden with the same tiredness. Amy somehow knew what he meant. He'd died a long time ago. Amy knew. But she refused to believe he couldn't come back to life.

"But I can't," Amy said, a single tear streaming down her cheek. "I can't..." She said, her tears and sobs now freely spilling into the eyes and ears of the others. She stabbed herself in the neck.

Everyone reacted in a different level of surprise or horror, except for Lambrick, who laughed.

"Wow! She actually did it!" Lambrick said in awe.

Travis winced, closing his eyes, taking uneven, harsh breaths. He just wanted this to be over.

Amy dropped the icepick, holding onto her neck, blood seeping between her fingers. She collapsed in the corner, breathing shallowly, her breath choking on blood seeping into her lungs. She looked only at Travis, tears still trailing like a waterfall. Please... Please look at me. Her mind pleaded.

Travis did, opening his eyes, glistening with guilt.

Amy somehow achieved a smile, the corners of her mouth trembling, but her heart still. Live. She managed a few small breaths and faded into nothing.

The goon backed off of Travis, who stayed where he was for a moment, with his cheek pressed against the table, eyes staring at the dead woman. Slowly he sat upright, pressing his elbows into the table, interweaving his hair with his fingers, staring at his favorite spot on the table. He refused to look at the dead woman in the corner.

Lambrick laughed, "That was intense. Good to know you'll be in another round, hey Trevor?" Lambrick cheered, giving Travis two pats on the back.

Travis groaned through his teeth on impact, his muscles trying to jerk his head back, but his fingers pulling at the hair on the back of his head, keeping it down. His back arched, chest forcing into the chair, trying to evade the cruel touch.

Lambrick patted him one more time. Travis's hands let go of his hair, not knowing where to go, uselessly scratching at the table in unsteady movements, his head jerking, but he refused to make another sound, clenching his jaw even harder.

Lambrick moved away, Lucas laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. Travis breathed out shakily through his mouth, his face falling against the table again, his shoulders and body completely relaxing.

Lambrick sat back down at the head of the table, his butler handing him a wipe. Travis's blood had only begun seeping through the material of his jacket scantly, so there was barely any blood on Lambrick's hand. Still, Lambrick wiped his hand with it, handing it back to Bevans when he finished with it. Lambrick watched soullessly as Amy's dead body was dragged out of the room.

Lambrick leaned back in his chair, "Moving on." He said.

Lucas hadn't moved his hand from Travis's shoulder, leaning in, "Hey, Travis." He shook him a little, but Trevor didn't move. "Travis?!" Lance shook him a little harder. Still no response.

Lambrick watched intently. "Bevans." He called, without looking away.

Bevans walked over, pressing two fingers to Travis's neck, leaning in, listening. "Still breathing, sir." He said. "Remarkable."

Peter was still holding Linda, his arm draped over the back of her wheelchair, "Guys, she hasn't moved for a while." He said.

"Stabbed an old woman, Peter." Lambrick said, getting more comfortable in his chair.

"Linda," Peter called her name. "See, she's unconscious."

Bevans grabbed the old woman's head, leaning it back, inspecting her face. "She's not unconscious." He said, letting go of her head and looking at Lambrick, "She's dead."

The guests gasped and exhaled sorrowfully, Peter moving away from Linda, expression filled with horror. He'd done that. He killed her.

Iris began sobbing silently as they wheeled Linda out of the room.

Peter breathed shakily, "You guys saw what happened, right? I tried to help her." He said, trying to justify the situation for himself, rocking in his seat.

"Oh, yes, Peter, we all saw what happened," Lambrick said, head tilted as he looked at the man. Peter began rocking more. "You made a decision and there's a consequence."

Peter covered his face with his wrist, lowering his head in shame.

"And now... Cal is the one to make a choice." Lambrick said. They placed the icepick and the whip on either side of him, Cal staring blankly at the items.

"Finish off Travis, here, or..." Lambrick said, Peter rocking, throwing his hands at the table. "Stab Peter," Lambrick said.

"Stab Peter like the others?" Cal asked, voice dull. "Like Linda, that's what you're saying?" He asked, his breath picking up in speed.

"30 seconds." One of Lambrick's men said.

"Okay, c'mon. Let's get it over with." Lucas said, waving his hand towards himself.

Cal was silent for a moment, and he sucked in a shallow breath, "Eliminate a player. That's what this is about." He said, finishing in a whisper.

Lucas leaned closer to the man, trying to reason with him, "No, Cal, that's crazy."

"Well, maybe he wants to end it, too." Cal said. Iris looked at Travis's scarred wrist, and shredded back, on the verge of sobbing.

"That's not your choice to make, man," Lucas responded.

"But it is." Cal said, his breath shook, "They're making it my choice."

"Cal, come on! I'm giving you an opening, here!" Lucas said, banging his fist down on the table.

"Time!" Someone called.

"Okay, I choose..." Cal picked up the whip.

"God, no, Cal, don't do this. Don't do that." Iris begged, shaking her head, sniffing. Peter leaned forward on the table, hanging his head, fists balled.

"You can't do this." Lucas said, his voice low.

"No." Iris begged.

Cal got out of his seat.

"No." Lucas said, his tone becoming darker.

Cal began making his way towards an unconscious Travis.

Lucas grabbed his arm on his way by, "Don't You Fucking Do It!!" He growled.

Cal pulled his arm out of his grip.

Lucas stood up, his chair screeching on the floor, standing behind Travis and shielding him, Lambrick's men pointing their guns at him. "NO!!" He yelled. "I Won't Let You!" He rumbled boldly, face mere inches from Cal's.

Cal stared at him and looked to Lambrick. He didn't know why he did it. Maybe for help, maybe to see what the sicko would do.

"Lucas, you've stepped out of line again. I'm afraid if you don't sit back down, Bevans will have to shoot you." Lambrick said, folding his hands.

Lucas hesitated, looking down at Travis, who was still out cold, not moving.

"He'll probably die anyway, man." Peter said, though Lucas could tell delivering those words was painful for him.

Lucas looked back down at Travis, and his gaze darkened with grit, "That's Murder." He said, looking back at Cal.

"Lucas, we'll give you ten seconds to sit back down." Lambrick said. A gun cocked.

Lucas stood with conviction, Cal's eyes pleading, "Sit down, man..."

"No." Lucas said, Iris turning away and sobbing.

There was complete silence for a few moments, and they shot Lucas dead, once in the chest, and once in the forehead.

Iris screamed, and Cal stared at the dead man standing there, inches in front of him, as Lucas began falling. He was caught by one of Lambrick's men before he could fall against Travis, his body being dragged out the room.

"Well... It seems with one more player gone, we're down to four." Lambrick looked at Cal, "You can sit back down now, Cal. You can go first next round." Lambrick said.

Cal choked on a breath, dropping the whip, eyes traveling from Travis, to Peter, to Iris in a daze as he shuffled back to his seat.

Lambrick stood, going to talk with Bevans in the corner, "So, how long would you say?" He asked the butler.

"He may live for several more hours, days even, I don't know." Bevans took a breath, "But he's in no shape to continue play, that much is certain."

Lambrick huffed, taking a second to think. "Alright, let's move him out."

Two of Lambrick's guys moved in on Travis, grabbing the vet by his forearms and lugging him out of his seat, which screeched on the floor.

"Wh, what are you doing?" Iris asked timidly, on high alert.

"Is he dead?" Peter asked, eyes on the verge of overflowing from the weight of all that had taken place, and the prospect of everything that was to come.

Lambrick moved to stand before the players, resting his hand on what was his son's chair. "Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that Travis is unable to continue playing." He said as they dragged Travis from the room.

Iris covered her mouth, which hung agape, watching as Travis and the men disappeared. Peter held his head, shaking it.

Lambrick went back to Bevans, "I'm thinking... We don't have much time here with these delays." He said, both men looking down at his watch.

One man who dragged Travis away walked back into the room, Bevans making a gesture to him with two fingers. The man stepped back out of the room, closing the door, not locking it, and standing guard outside.

Lambrick continued whispering to Bevans, as the remaining three players looked at each other. Lambrick looked back at his watch as Peter leaned in over the table, "Can you run?" He asked Iris.

Iris nodded. They all sat in silence for a moment longer, and Peter suddenly slammed his hand on the table, "NOW!" He yelled, all three guests standing hurriedly.

Peter tackled one goon, punching him and slamming him into the table, Cal grabbing the Sjambok and whipping another's legs, as Iris ran for the door.

The skirmish went on, men choking and punching each-other. "Iris, run!!" Peter wheezed, in the process of being choked on the floor by Bevans.

Iris was grabbed, the slight woman trying to fight the guy off of her. She struggled and stabbed the man in the arm with the icepick. The man hollered, releasing her, Iris running past him and out the door.

He pointed his gun at her, but Cal whipped him, the man falling to the ground. Cal turned to look at Lambrick, who was standing alone, unguarded. He made a course towards the man, anger entangled on his face.

Lambrick let him get surprisingly close before shooting him, Cal dropping to the floor, dead.

"Get back in your seats!" Lambrick ordered. Bevans forced Peter to his feet, who sat down.

"Well, that was some unexpected excitement, wasn't it?" Lambrick asked, his voice calming down. Lambrick looked around, a little more intently, "Where's Iris?" He asked. He looked at the gaping door, "Bevans! The door was unlocked!?" He howled.

Bevans looked at one of his men, who had his gun trained on Peter, "Stay here! Keep an eye on him!" He said, giving Peter a dirty look before darting out the door.


	4. There Goes the Ragdoll's Pride

Travis awoke, his cheek pressed against a cold, hoarse floor. He was on his stomach, (thank fuck) instead of his back. He didn't know how long he'd been laying there, but his neck was starting to hurt from how his head was twisted. That was nothing compared to the shit going on with his entire backside. The slashes on his back and backside caused a sharp pain to flash through his body in red hot currents every time he breathed. His right arm had become numb, so it didn't hurt as badly.

He started carefully pushing off the ground with his hands. He panted intensely from the effort, staring and the floor beneath his face. He painstakingly shifted his legs, so he stabilized himself with his hands and knees. He looked around, finding himself in an unfamiliar room. Where was he? He hadn't remembered moving. He gasped in agony, sensation seeping back into his skin, and his arms gave out. The vet had to keep himself up by his elbows, fastening his hands together.

The room was simple. The wallpaper wasn't fancy, like the dining room, and it had no furniture, only having cream curtains covering the window. He didn't fail to notice the faded, dark red blotches and specks permanently inked on parts of the wall and curtains, nuzzled in the cracks of the chipping, unrenovated floorboards.

This room was old. He wasn't too shocked to realize Lambrick had probably been playing this game for a while... Decades, even.

On the bright side, he finally was somewhere that looked as entirely miserable as he felt, so he probably didn't stand out too crassly with the room. That didn't make him want to stay longer.

Travis peered around his shoulder, the muscles in his shoulders and arms quivering from the strain. The door was wood, something he could break down at his full strength. But he wasn't at his full strength. That was the point of this room. He was doomed to die.

Without the excuse of doing it to protect someone else, he found he didn't want to die anymore. Not like this... Not without a reason. He wanted to die of his own accord, not some sick bastard's.

He looked back towards the window. There was silver light spilling through, scarcely noticeable thanks to the single, dim light on the ceiling. The window was his only chance.

He slowly started crawling towards it, dragging himself along with his forearms and his legs, crawling army-style. At this moment, he was thankful the whip-marks on his right forearm were on the back of his forearm, not the underside. Still, the skin broke open and blood wept from his arm as he crawled, the musty air stinging deep within the gashes on his flesh. He pursed his lips, shaking his head in small jerks, his tired eyes freely crying. He gasped, choking on the tears slipping down his throat.

He continued crawling through the pain. He reached the wall, patting it with his hand, exhaling, feeling as though he'd overcome some sort of milestone.

Now came the harder part. He slowly got on his knees to the right of the window, pressing his hands against the wall to keep himself balanced. He reached for the curtains and pulled them back. Planks of wood covered it, cracks between them large enough to let moonlight through, but too small to fit even a finger.

He tried anyway, fingers sliding against the cracks, pressure filling up his chest and making it hard to breathe. He hung his head, pressing the top of it against the wall, which creaked from the weight. Trevor released a sob, sniffing, his nose becoming stuffy.

He didn't want to die. Not like this. Getting whipped to death to protect the others, fine. But _this_? This was pointless. The only way he would die pointlessly would be if he took his own life, not this. He somehow found this more meaningless than any other way of dying.

He knew that if he went back into that room... if he kept playing, he would've died better. He would've taken as much of the pain as he could, keeping it from the others until there was nothing left of him. He had passed out, but he knew Linda had died... If he was awake, he would have told Peter to whip him. Linda would be alive. Amy had killed herself to prevent Trevor's own demise.

He wanted to throw up... and sleep for a _very_ long time. He did neither, staying there on his knees, hands pressed against the wall, head low.

He just breathed, sometimes shakily, as his emotions overwhelmed him, sometimes taking smooth breaths, ignoring the searing pain in his arm, back, and back end. Travis thought about the other guests... The other _victims_. He hadn't really helped. How could he?

Travis let his knees sag, so he sat on his ass. The top of it hurt when he made contact with the ground, but since none of his slashes actually touched the floor, he ignored them.

He looked around the room again silently, taking in all the details. He frowned thoughtfully as he noticed something in the corner on the other side of the window. It was his jacket.

He started crawling towards it, only having to move slightly before getting within reach. He draped it over his shoulders and slowly lay down on his back. It felt like claws were trying to break loose from his skin, pushing and pulling. Even breathing felt like absolute hell, like someone was creating new gashes with each breath, and forcing his skin open.

As he lay there, entirely still, everything slowly became numb. His mind slowed from rational thought to irrational dreams and images, as his eyes drooped closed.

Before he could entirely drift into sleep, he heard a creak. His eyes cracked open, looking towards the source.

The door was open, Julian standing there, smirking down at him. "There you are," Julian said with false cheerfulness in his tone, slowly stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Travis noticed he was limping.

"What?" Travis grumbled, having the gut to sound irritated.

"Watch your tone," Julian warned with a hiss, jabbing a finger at Travis, who didn't fail to notice it was bandaged. The vet didn't care enough to respond. There was complete silence for a hot minute, and Julian continued talking, "You know, I still can't figure out why you did it..." He said, tilting his head while looking down at Travis, who remained completely unmoving, besides his eyes, which stared at the sadistic man-child like no other burden.

Julian went on, "You wanted to protect the others? Or you wanted to prove a point?" Julian walked past Travis, going to the window, pulling back the curtains, and peering out of a small crack. "Maybe you wanted to end your miserable, insignificant life?" Julian moved back away from the window, peering down at Travis, tilting his head, "I don't know. Maybe you're just a masochist?" He wondered aloud.

Travis was done with this little shit. He just lay there, closing his eyes, ignoring him.

" **DON'T IGNORE ME.** " Julian shouted.

Travis's eyes snapped open, and he glared blankly at the man standing above him, but his heavy breath revealed the true fury underneath.

Julian stared back, silence filling the room once more for a moment. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shook his head in disappointment, gaze still trained on the vet, "Holy _shit_. Your pride's _still_ scraping along? Seems you didn't get the memo behind your beating, didja?"

Travis poured all his hatred into his eyes and managed the dirtiest glare he could muster. " **Shut Up.** " He spit venomously.

"Are you serious? Big demands coming from a _ragdoll_." Julian said, stepping on Travis's left wrist, leaning forward on it. Travis's face stiffened from the hard heel, but he made no sound.

"I still can't _believe_ you took the fucking whip to prove a point! How dumb are you?" Julian scoffed, moving his heel and crouching down next to Travis's head.

Travis was too fatigued and broken to curse Julian out, or even care anymore. Travis lay there, eyes closed, and Julian stared at him, observing him.

"I loved those sounds you made," Julian said, almost wistfully.

An unpleasant, prickly chill went down Travis's spine.

"Those screams... how you sobbed for relief..." Julian said. Travis could feel Julian's breath on his cheek and could hear him shifting.

"Sobbing? Not how I remember it..." Travis mumbled. He sounded detached, but the muscles in Travis's neck stiffened, raising his shoulders up slightly, his back protesting, and he screwed his eyes tighter shut. He knew where this was heading.

"I want you to make more," Julian whispered, his breath flowing into Travis's ear, who cringed. A lump formed in Travis's throat and his breathing sped up, the vet clenching his jaw.

"Sadly, I can't touch you..." Julian said, huffing irritatedly, standing. Travis watched as he walked to the door, opening it, stepping out. He whispered something to someone out of view, and took one more glance at Travis, giving a sour look, before disappearing down the corridor.

In walked Bevans and another man. "Don't stir. This will be painless." Bevans said.

The other man approached. Travis realized he was holding a needle. Travis could barely fight back before he was pricked in the arm, being injected with something as he tried shoving away the man's hands.

The man moved back, and both stood there, watching Travis, who glared up at them, trying to get up on his elbows, but the pain of his back driving him back down. Since that didn't work, he just lay there, glaring up at Bevans and the other staff member, his eyes stinging.

Slowly he began feeling the effects. The room became dimmer, and the agony of his body slipped away. He let his eyes slip closed for only a moment, feeling only longer than a blink, and he found himself in a brightly lit hospital room.

He lifted his head, looking around wildly, his eyes wide, accidentally leaning forward and pulling the slashes on his back, tight, but not too intense pain shooting through his body. He groaned and stiffened, then forcing himself to relax, the pain subsiding.

He was propped up on some thick pillows, his legs and abdomen covered by a blanket. He wore a hospital gown, and the stench of metallic blood was gone. He lifted his arm, which felt as heavy as bricks, to lift open his shirt and look underneath it. There were wrappings over his chest and shoulders, probably for his back.

He sighed, dropping his shirt and looking more around the room. There were flowers on the dresser next to him. Funny, he didn't know anybody who liked him enough to get him something like that.

He looked past that and noticed a chair at the foot of his bed. In it sat Iris. She was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape. He stared back.

Iris looked like she wanted to hug him, which was a weird feeling having angled towards him. No one had ever looked at him like that before. Like they _cared_.

Then her face changed, and he knew what she was thinking about. He was thinking of the same thing... The horrid things that took place. Conway getting shot... the shocking... Travis getting whipped almost to death.

Somehow Travis remembered that Iris had been in the game longer than him. She looked physically fine, but she'd witnessed much more than he had. 

Travis felt pressure building in his nose, and his eyes coated with tears. "You won?" He asked dully, head tilting away as he stared at the ceiling.

"Yes..." Iris said timidly, seemingly knowing he'd ask.

Travis looked back at her, his frame trembling, "Did anyone else...?" _Survive_. He lapsed, his voice diminishing, eyes fluttering from one spot on the ceiling to another. He knew what she'd say, but he needed to die.

She pressed her lips together and hung her head, on the verge of tears. "No, no one..." She whispered, almost too quiet to hear. "You shouldn't have survived, either... They, they were going to let you die, but I changed my brother's promised medical treatment with yours..."

Travis stared at her, eyes widening, "No... Iris, why-?"

"He..." Iris paused, on the verge of tears. Travis let her take her time. Iris breathed out slowly, calming her heart, "I, uh, got back home... and found him..." Her eyes moved from place to place, staying low, "He'd... overdosed." She finished, pushing out a sharp sigh.

Travis stared at her, and his eyes slowly found their way to his hands. "Iris, I..." He didn't know what to say. He knew her brother was the only reason she'd gone to that dinner party in the first place... And now he was gone. If only her brother knew just how selfish he was being by _dying_. All the pain he'd caused.

He clenched his eyes closed, pressing his lips together, huffing out a breath through his nostrils, "I..." He paused again, his tears finally tipping over. He wiped them away roughly, with his right arm's bandages, not feeling any pain from his arm, thanks to the meds he was on.

"That's tough..." He whispered, the breath from his lungs pushing out with sincerity.

Iris nodded in thanks. "Shepard said... _They_ said they'd pay for your medical expenses, but they couldn't let you leave..." Iris looked at him, eyes fluttering. Travis stared back at her, his expression tired and unchanging.

Iris went on, "I, I _bought_ you on a condition..." She said, the admittance making her uncomfortable, as it seemed to make Travis, whose jaw tightened, "They said you have to stay with me... That if you leave, they'll hunt you down..." She said, wincing as she looked at him like he would freak out.

There was a pause, and Travis sighed, "Iris, you don't want me." He said tenderly.

Iris looked at him like he'd just killed a kitten, "Travis... I do. If I didn't, I would've left you there." She said. There wasn't a bit of truth to her words. She inhaled, "I had no issue letting the others... pass." She said, getting choked up a little.

"Yes you did," Travis said frankly, staring at her. She stared back. He could see the guilt in her eyes spilling into this white-walled space.

The room was silent for a long minute, until he nodded, in a daze, his eyes far away, "I was about to get evicted from my apartment, so I've got nowhere else to be." He said, reaching behind himself, features and body stiffening, trying to shift his pillows.

Iris moved forward, grabbing his pillows and fluffing them, arranging them to be easier to sit up. She moved away, and he nodded to her in thanks, Iris sitting at the foot of his bed. She stared at the sheets, "You... You can't leave the house without me unless I tell them in advance... If you do, they'll kill you..." Iris said.

Travis was still. He sighed halfheartedly, closing his eyes and lying back into his pillows, relaxing. "A second chance..." He mumbled.

The door opened, and in walked a nurse. She looked suddenly somber when she saw Travis was awake. "Oh, you're awake." She said. "We didn't expect that for another two days."

Travis looked at Iris, who glanced back. So he'd been napping for two days. He looked back at the nurse. She cleared her throat, "Uh, your medical expenses were paid for in advance by Shepard Lambrick... The billionaire."

"A friend of ours." Iris lied, the words leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

The nurse raised a brow, "Rich friends..." She said, looking at her pad. She tucked it under her arm, turning to Travis, "Now that you're stitched up, you can go home in a week..."

Travis nodded, "Great." He said enthusiastically.

"We'll be coming in every two hours to numb you up because of your high tolerance." The nurse said and left.

"They're not curious how this happened?" Travis asked Iris.

Iris sighed, "Enough money and they won't even bat an eye." Iris said. She laughed, though there was no humor in her smile, "They don't even care who you are. They're just calling you John Doe."

"What about the police?" Travis asked, closing his eyes tiredly, the world swimming around him.

"I, I don't know. Paid off, too?" Iris answered.

"Fucking cucks," Travis grumbled his stress and nausea building, lifting his hand and pressing the ridges of his knuckles against his brow. He felt a hand on his knee, and he opened his eyes, finding Iris smiling tenderly at him.

"All that matters is that we're alive." She said, voice hopeful.

Travis closed his eyes, pressure building in his head in the form of a headache. "Yeah, sure..." He mumbled, placing his hand over his eyes, covering them. He thought of the faces of all the other people at the dinner party. All those folks were dead now... Lucas, Linda, Peter, Amy, Cal... All of them. He would've taken all of their sufferings if he could've. He wished he could've...

"How did they all die?" Travis asked, brow scrunched and chest aching.

"We can't change anything that happened..." Iris said, a thickness building in her throat.

"I know..." Travis whispered, so softly it almost sounded like wind.

They were silent. Travis knew what Julian would say if he were here. "There goes the ragdoll's pride."


End file.
